


The Masquerade

by zetsubou_hana (Sakura_no_Miko)



Series: Schneizel x Kanon series [4]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Slash, Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-22
Updated: 2008-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakura_no_Miko/pseuds/zetsubou_hana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schneizel spies a beautiful young woman at a masked ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Pairing: Schneizel x Kanon  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: sex, cross-dressing, male/male  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass or any of its characters. I make no profit from this fan-work.
> 
> Author's notes: This is the only tale to explicitly deal with Kanon's, erm, 'canon' cross-dressing. I suppose it goes well with the first fic in this series.

  
Schneizel smiled genially at the chattering noblemen and women, clad in expensive, imported gowns from the Numbers, and jeweled masks that scarcely hid their tell-tale nose, or eyes, or mouth, though everyone thought themselves Anon.

He sipped his fine wine, bored, wondering what sort of game he could play to amuse himself, when a figure caught his eye. Standing up against the wall, far away from the main party, a demure-looking girl in a simple, yet lovely dress was gazing at the main party. She had long hair that framed her face, a small, worried-looking mouth, and, as he moved closer, pretty eyes lined with dark make-up.

She suddenly caught sight of him and looked away. Coy. It only intrigued him further.

"May I at least ask your name?" he asked charmingly. The poor creature looked like she wanted to run. She started to shake her head, then looked at him with wide eyes, then back to the ground.

Schneizel darted out and grabbed her hand. Soft. 'Not a maid,' he thought to himself, 'not with hands like this. Too timid to be a governess.' Those eyes looked sharp, intelligent—and was that a glitter of anger, beneath the fear? Perhaps she was a tutor, or a personal servant.

"Please let me go," a frail, whispery voice said. It was curiously light, as if she was struggling to speak.

"Do you fear the touch of a prince?" he asked. Her reluctance was a challenge. Poor thing, she was only drawing him in further.  
Her lips moved, but he didn't hear her words. She pulled away with surprising strength and sprinted across the candle-lit hall, dodging skillfully between the drunken nobles. Schneizel caught a glance of long, delicate legs beneath the soft folds of her skirts.

He might have let her go.

A servant with a tray of expensive glasses suddenly stopped in front of her. The sudden movement startled her, and she tried to spin around, a graceful movement, if she had only done it a moment earlier. Instead, they both crashed to the ground.

There was silence. The nobles stared, ugly and idiotic. They began to laugh.

She looked up, her mouth twisted into a terrible expression, and tried to get up. Her leg trembled, and her mouth twisted in pain.

Schneizel stepped forward, and silence reigned again as he pulled his coat around her and led her, limping, off to an unlit hallway, a darkened door.

He was only barely able to stop the fist that came flying at his face, instinctively raising his arm to shield himself.

She had thrown the mask off, her face red and tears running dark rivers of color down her face. He recognized that face. He, who could tell the counts and duchesses and princes and all their bastard children from a mole, or a twitch of their eye…and yet he had been blind to this.

"Kanon?" Schneizel heard himself say.

"Don't mock me!" the young man seethed.

Schneizel's hand cupped the fist, pushing it away. That long hair was all the same shade; his own, not a wig. The careful make-up, the well-fitted dress that gave the illusion of a feminine figure. "Why?" he asked simply.

"Why?" Kanon echoed, his hand falling got his side. His eyes stared at the floor.

"Why were you following me, Kanon? My father?"

"I told you not to mock me," Kanon hissed. "Why am I dressed like a damn woman? That's what you want to know."

"A useful disguise. Even I was fooled," Schneizel noted calmly, expressionless.

"Disguise?" Kanon's face hovered between anger and fear. "Yes…a disguise."

Schneizel drew out his handkerchief. There was a water basin, cool and clean. He offered the dampened cloth to Kanon. "You're make-up is running," he said. When Kanon didn't move, he tipped the younger man's face up, rubbing gently at a black streak crawling down his cheek. Kanon was stiff, his eyes wide. "I used to do this for my sisters," Schneizel said conversationally. "You don't want it to set, or it will be impossible to get off later."

"I can do it myself," Kanon mumbled, grabbing the handkerchief. He leaned over the basin, and Schneizel watched his profile, the line of his back. Even the most observant person could blind himself to something unexpected. Now, he could see Kanon in every motion, every word. There were small differences, in the way he postured himself, the way his hands moved. A certain womanly grace about him that seemed strangely natural.

"Schneizel-sama," Kanon said quietly, looking up at him, his face still wet. "I apologize for my insolence." His eyes were red, but looking better now.

"Why were you sent here?"

"Because I'm expendable." Kanon's eyes never wavered. "I'm a freak. I'm…I'm _this_." He motioned downwards, to the elegant gown he wore. "A man like a woman." He gulped, his eyes closed. "I will take whatever punishment you deign for me, Schneizel-sama."

'Male, Schneizel thought slowly. 'Female.' He understood, of course, but, like many things, he simply didn't care. "Will you work for me, Kanon?"

"What?" Kanon's voice was choked.

"You're intelligent, adaptable. I have use for a person such as you."

"I don't deserve…"

Schneizel cut him off. "I don't care about your personal life. As long as you are loyal to me, and me alone, I will let you do as you please."

Kanon still looked at him in disbelief for a moment, before slowly kneeling. "Schneizel-sama, I will be yours for as long as you want me." He took Schneizel's hand and kissed the ring on his finger.

The sight of him kneeling was oddly arousing, Schneizel thought in amusement. Truly, male or female didn't matter to him, only beauty.

"Do you want me, Schneizel-sama?" Surely he was imagining that coy tone in Kanon's voice? But, no, the younger was looking up at him adoringly.

"Is this part of your loyalty?" he asked.  
"…yes," Kanon replied after a moment. Before Schneizel could reply, he added, "You are not taking advantage of me." He smiled. "In fact, I may be taking advantage of you, my prince, and your comforting arms."

"Certainly not," Schneizel replied slowly. A bit of mutual pleasure sounded quite fine, especially after the annoyances of the party. It was almost…amusing, lifting up the soft skirt to grasp at the hot flesh beneath, to listen to Kanon moan breathily—his voice cracking high notes in one breath and lower, masculine tones with the next—as he pressed against the wall, spread open, begging for sex.

The clothes were more impressive than he'd imagined, soft and fluffy, smooth and warm between their skin, hiding long legs and shapely hips. The font was tighter, more like a bodice, but his hands slid upwards across a flat stomach and chest to tease at pert nipples.

Kanon's mouth was wet and lush, and when Schneizel tipped his head back, he could see the long line of his neck, disappearing into a low-cut neckline. Strange, to feel a male chest, but to see the fabric fold and curl as if to hide soft breasts.

He caught a handful of Kanon's long hair and grasped it gently. He didn't remember this. The Kanon he remembered had short hair. He pondered for a moment at the mysterious appearance of the waves of silk-soft hair that fell across the younger man's shoulders.

Kanon gasped and moaned, causing a flicker of a smile to rise on Schneizel's lips as he watched him. "Do you enjoy being vocal?" he asked, smoothing his fingers down the smooth stockings that sheathed his legs, nearly the color of his flesh.

"To be honest, it's usually for the benefit of others."

"Most things are." Kanon's body was slender beneath the shape of the dress, hidden away. Even as he peeled the clothes away, they were still covering him up. "Perhaps…we can agree not to worry about others?"

"You don't even need to worry about me, Schneizel-sama," Kanon said.

"Hmph," Schneizel murmured. Worry? He wasn't sure if he'd ever worried about anything in his life.

"We shouldn't stray from the party for long, Schneizel-sama. Someone might come looking for us." That mischievous smile again. "Take off your gloves, or they'll be soiled." Kanon drew up the large skirt in his arms and pressed himself up against the wall, baring his legs and backside.

Carefully, he pulled down the feminine undergarments, baring the smooth, thin legs, the round buttocks. Sex was for pleasure. Beauty was for pleasure. Even if he only felt it distantly. He pulled his gloves off carefully, his hands large, masculine, with short-clipped nails. He understood sex, insofar as it need to be understood. Compared to battle, it was a far simpler thing.

  
His fingers stroked at the small ring of muscle presented to him, teasing it until he could slide in one, two fingers easily. Not a virgin. That made things simpler. Carefully, he dragged his fingers in and out, searching for the bundle of nerves he knew to be very pleasurable, and working the tight muscles lax. It was almost mechanical, except for the low throbbing in his own groin, and the little noises that tore from Kanon's throat.

He spit onto his free hand, and stroked himself slowly. Kanon didn't complain about the lack of artificial lubrication, so he took it as a sign of compliance. Their bodies connected easily enough, and he took a moment to savor the intense pleasure of coitus.

"Nothing fazes you, does it?" Kanon whispered between panting breaths.

"You feel exquisite," Schneizel said charmingly, only to be met with Kanon's laughter.

"You don't need to pretend, remember?" Kanon carefully shifted his weight towards his good leg, and braced himself against the wall. "If you aren't interested…"

"It's nothing but physical response to nerve stimulation." Saying his thoughts out loud felt strange, and yet…

More of that tinkling laughter, slowly morphing into a low groan and Schneizel felt himself being squeezed by Kanon's body. He began to thrust forward instinctively, and, for a moment, his mind slowed — stilled — went blissfully blank, and there was only the physical.

Kanon's hands were full with his skirts, and so Schneizel reached around to stroke him, covering the hard flesh with his hand until they both shuddered and went stiff. He was careful not to let the sticky stuff drip onto those fine clothes. They were beautiful.

As Kanon gathered up his clothes, he washed his hands off in the remaining water, then dried them. His body was humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and his mind began its incessant chatter again. Normal and dull.

"Are you ready to return outside?" Schneizel carefully let his fingers trace the dress Kanon wore. "It is a lovely dress."

"I…I made it," Kanon mumbled. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. "I need to re-do my make-up," he said.

"I think I prefer you like this." Schneizel offered his arm. "Come. You will be my attendant for the rest of this night."

"But…"

"Is it strange to be attended by a beautiful woman?"

"They'll see me," Kanon said softly.

"People are blind to many things. They will only see your beauty."

"Like you."

For once, Schneizel was unsure of how to respond. "I see you," he said finally, neutrally.

Kanon's smile assured him that he had answered correctly. He always did.


End file.
